


i could be your perfect disaster (you could be my ever after)

by shaniac (whizzergcingdcwn)



Series: truth or dare; was i good to you? [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Male Apprentice (The Arcana), Pre-Prologue, after the apprentice dies but before asra gets them back, apprentice's name is kashar vega, asra is just using him and it be like that sometimes, julian really tries he does, not very happy, technically before lucio's death too, this is my own fan apprentice im sowwy if you were looking for an ambiguous one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 01:36:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16985643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whizzergcingdcwn/pseuds/shaniac
Summary: Julian doesn't know what he's worth and will take anything the man he loves throws towards him, no matter how inconsequential.Asra doesn't know how to love anymore, and he's forced to reflect on what he's lost and what that means for himself.They may have been perfect in another time, another life. But here?Here they were together and that was all Asra needed.





	i could be your perfect disaster (you could be my ever after)

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh if you didn't catch it in the tags this is my fan apprentice - his name is Kashar Vega. This more or less follows canon in the sense of Julian and Asra being together in the time between Apprentice's deaths and resurrection (there's no strict timeline as far as I can tell so I'm giving it a few months here) and Asra being unable to cope.
> 
> This is unbeta'd and published at like 2:30 am I'm sorry in advance

Rain used to elate him.

Even after living in Vesuvia for years, he still found it exciting. Asra hadn't grown up somewhere where it rained very often, and it had been Kashar who, his first year under   
Asra, had dragged him outside during a storm to enjoy it with him. From then on it had left a warm feeling in his chest, one that made it easy to deal with getting stuck in it. Especially when he'd had his friend ( _his best friend, his lover,_ **_the_ _love of his life_** -) beside him, laughing as water flattened his hair and dripped into his face.

Now it just left him with a bitter taste in his mouth and a tougher wall around his heart.

The Lazaret still burned in the distance, undisturbed and uncaring in the rain that poured down, black smoke pouring into the sky and bleeding with the angry clouds that seemed to read his mood from miles above. Faust was tucked safely and carefully within his scarf, keeping herself dry and warm as Asra slid from the palace. He couldn't stay in there anymore, with Lucio's constant nagging and oppressive weight of just how _little_ he was really doing - for Kashar, for himself, for everyone. He was watching Ilya run himself ragged every night, pouring over research upon research and everything he was doing (and really, he was doing his best. Asra had nothing against him. But he was the closest target, and he took his anger so well...) and it left him aching deep in his soul.

He walked, almost mindlessly, through the garden maze to the fountain, and deeper still. He hadn't even consciously realized he'd made it to the willow tree until his knees were dug into the cold mud and his eyes were suddenly blurred. It was easy, from the outside, to dismiss it as rain falling from his hair and into his face as he drug his fingers across the crudely craved letters at the base. He'd only done it a month ago, but the tree was already scarring it over. So why couldn't he?

All at once, he was overwhelmed. A sob ripped through his throat and he brought a hand up to cover his mouth, although the rain hitting the canopy above him drowned him out enough. He was alone. Well and truly alone - what good was Ilya to him? A distraction? Some place to dump his aggression and his desperation, only to have it returned in kind, often even doubled? His arms came around his chest almost defensively, protecting himself from unseen and unfelt force. Protecting him from himself, from his own thoughts.

"What are you doing?"

The rain and his own sobbing had done enough to cover up Ilya's footsteps until he was right behind him, shock running up his spine at the sound of his voice. The magician straightened as he crouched to be at the same level, running a light finger over the name himself.

"Paying my respects." Even now, at the height of his emotion, he managed to school his voice into something calm, almost indifferent. It was scary, sometimes, how well he did that.

They allowed the silence to bubble around them for what felt like hours. They sat there, Asra's shoulders shaking - from crying or the cold, neither could be sure - and Ilya's hand rubbing light circles into his back. It would have been comforting in another time. In another life, this may work. They may have been perfect for each other, had it been years prior. Their peace was suddenly broken when Asra surged towards him, locking their lips together. He couldn't handle his emotions on his own. He needed somewhere to channel them, an outlet to push them onto, something or someone to take them off of his shoulders for some time. The kiss was returned in kind, only broken when they had to breathe, both of their chests heaving. The loneliness he felt was grating, pulling through life with only the thought that maybe, somehow, he could help end this plague and no one else would have to endure this again. He wanted to help. He wanted to be useful.

He wanted everything he couldn't have, and nothing he could.

"Let's go back inside." He words were whispered against his mouth, the doctor's voice calming despite it all. Inside was warm, inside he could forget for a few more hours, before they got back to work. Together they made their way back inside the palace and it hit Asra just how cold and wet he really was. It was a wordless agreement that took them both to his room, lips and hands and chests pressing in ways that seemed perfect from the outside. Watching Ilya undress was thrilling in it's own way, the way his fingers never faltered, ever so sure as he pulled ties and buttons, tossing his clothes in a heap at the foot of the bed. Someone could take care of it later, when they were done using each other.

The man's eyes on him as he undressed himself, slow and patient and almost calculating in his movements, sent chills through his whole body. This was what he needed. He needed Ilya's undivided attention, his hear and passion and all of his fears, laid out for Asra to keep for himself, no expectation of the same for himself. Asra could keep his everything locked up and hold onto Ilya's at the same time. He hungered for it, for the doctor and his body, how easily he accepted him and how readily he cried his name. Every kiss, every burning touch, every thrust sent Ilya further somewhere he couldn't and wouldn't follow. It wasn't for him to claim, none of this was.

But he would take it anyways, as greedily and selfishly as he could, until their time was up.

As they laid there, the gentle rise and fall of the doctor's chest proving his sleep, Asra stared up at the ceiling. He was alone. Well and truly alone. But for now, he had company in his loneliness, content to wallow with him and hold him through the night so he didn't disappear. It was then that he made up his mind.

The rain would elate him again, one day soon. He wouldn't be lonely for much longer.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this is so short I haven't written a fic in a very long time and I was using this as a way to stretch my legs again in a fandom I'm very active in.
> 
> Wanna talk to me? You can catch me at maglclan on Instagram and message me at mothman bergara#7775 on Discord


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